Tursey found a map on the corpse—though calling it a map was generous.
The drawing was so abstract that it reminded her of the time she and her childhood friends used to play "Pen Ghost," pretending to be possessed while scribbling wildly across a sheet of paper.
Only later had she realized that the paper she'd scribbled on was homework due the next day. By the time she figured it out, she had already been dragged into the teacher's office and thoroughly scolded.
…Why am I thinking about that now?
Does this dungeon have the power to make people relive unfortunate memories?
At the moment, this map was their only clue. But the strokes were far too abstract, and they weren't familiar enough with Liurnia of the Lakes to determine their current location from it.
"These wavy lines probably represent mountains," Tursey said. "If that's the case, could this square be the town in front of the academy?"
There was a marking in the upper-left corner of the map, labeled with symbols none of them could read.
Moments later, magical text appeared above it, translating the meaning.
[The path to redemption lies within.]
Redemption? What redemption?
There was no way the Sein Dungeon would casually place a corpse and a random map here just to mess with them. It had to mean something.
Tursey began speculating about the corpse's identity. Had this person been searching for the teleportation gate to escape? Or had there been some other purpose entirely?
Judging from the result, he had been stopped outside the academy gates.
Which made the map even more intriguing. If he had possessed a map, why hadn't he gone there himself?
Almost simultaneously, everyone arrived at the same conclusion.
The marked location must be extremely dangerous.
Good.
Dangerous meant they were heading in the right direction.
"Kale mentioned that the northwest might also be a possible hiding place for the teleportation gate," Tursey said. "The map marks the northwest as well. Let's check there on the way."
Everyone knew two legs couldn't outrun four—unless you used magic.
But in an environment full of potential danger, wasting mana wasn't a good idea.
So Gapar did something no one had anticipated.
"Get down!"
A ghost rider screamed as he was kicked off his horse, watching helplessly as someone else mounted his beloved steed.
"Neigh!"
The ghostly horse whinnied in fury.
It refused!
It would rebel!
It would—
"Move again and I'll strangle you."
Gapar grabbed the horse by the neck with both hands.
The horse froze.
In the end, its indomitable spirit was defeated by two tangible, powerful hands. It obediently carried the Sword Saint forward.
Excellent.
At least this proved that even dungeon monsters would bow before overwhelming personal strength.
Gapar continued his efforts. Several more ghost riders were violently dismounted—losing both their horses and their lives.
Soon, a small cavalry unit thundered across the lake, hooves splashing water rhythmically.
Dominant.
Truly dominant.
Roger, lying awkwardly belly-down on his horse, stared at Gapar's figure and thought:
So this is what they mean when they say the strong humiliate the weak.
Everyone else was sitting upright.
Only he was sprawled flat.
Probably because his mount sensed the gap in strength between him and Gapar and wasn't entirely cooperative.
Roger thought for a moment, then pulled out a handful of dried fruit and held it in front of the horse's mouth.
The ghost horse ate it without hesitation.
Its movements immediately steadied.
The dried fruit had actually increased its affection.
Well… that might also have something to do with the small hammer Roger was holding near its head.
A stick and a carrot. A simple but effective beast-taming strategy.
Besides, ghost horses were more intelligent than most monsters outside the dungeon. It even seemed to understand him.
A fine horse.
No need to send this one to the taming grounds.
But seriously—Roger was a mage. His primary weapon was already a rapier.
And now he had a hammer hidden on him too?
Were you really a mage?
With Wind Walk boosting their speed, the ghost horses ran even more enthusiastically than they had under their original riders.
Four riders, four mounts—racing across Liurnia of the Lakes like street racers.
Full throttle.
They ignored the giant lobsters, giant crabs, and puppet soldiers along the way. When you're in a hurry, even killing a roadside wild dog feels like a waste of time.
As they raced with the wind, Roger suddenly realized something.
The Sein Dungeon…
was a parkour game.
"Whoosh!"
A sharp sound cut through the air behind him.
Alarm bells rang in Roger's mind. He yanked his horse sharply to the side.
A thick water cannon blasted past him.
If he had reacted even a moment later, his head would have exploded.
"Tch. Not again."
He glanced back.
Tursey turned just in time to see Roger suddenly accelerate and ride up beside Gapar.
"Why are you running so fast—"
"Look behind us! We've got trouble!"
She turned.
And promptly choked on her stamina potion.
Now this was what you called vitality.
All the monsters they had galloped past earlier had gathered into a massive army and were pursuing them relentlessly.
Even Dark Souls II, famous for its enemy swarms, wouldn't casually attempt something like this without forcing a dramatic "save your family" boss battle afterward.
Sein Dungeon… you've got guts.
These monsters were petty.
Extremely petty.
Normally, monsters wouldn't chase adventurers indefinitely. After a certain distance, they would return to their original positions.
But today?
They were locked onto Gapar like heat-seeking missiles.
Wait.
Locked onto Gapar?
Roger suddenly realized that not only were the water cannons increasing, but mixed among them were black-and-gold magic bolts and old arrows—attacks belonging to ghost riders and puppet soldiers.
Ingenious.
Individually, those attacks wouldn't reach this far. But embedded within the water cannons, they gained enough velocity to strike before losing power.
Behind them, bells rang incessantly.
Using a low-tier Water Mirror spell, Roger peeked backward.
Several ghost riders were riding giant crabs at high speed, ringing bells and pointing at the group while shouting hoarsely.
The surrounding monsters looked enraged—as though they were avenging them.
In that instant, Roger understood.
Those commanding ghost riders were the exact ones Gapar had robbed of their mounts.
Each of them had a giant boot print stamped across their faces.
No wonder the monsters were chasing them.
No wonder Gapar, at the front, was taking the brunt of the attacks.
The ghost riders had called reinforcements.
Roger was speechless.
He had never imagined that stealing a ghost rider's horse would trigger such a chain reaction.
Nothing like this had happened in earlier areas of the dungeon.
Watching the ghost riders and their animal allies working together in harmony…
There was clearly some kind of bond between them.
Roger's lips trembled.
He shut his eyes tightly.
Then opened them again, his pupils blazing.
"This is fascinating!"
He was a monster scholar.
Monster ecology was his passion.
And this cooperation between ghost riders and animals hit him squarely in his sweet spot.
"I'm changing my thesis topic when we get out," he muttered, wiping drool from his mouth.
Liurnia had immense potential.
He might just fall in love with this place.
"Mr. Gapar! Should we stop and wipe them out?!" Roger shouted.
"No. Maintain this formation!"
Gapar looked exhilarated.
Individually, the pursuing monsters weren't strong.
But combined?
Even a Bazelgeuse might hesitate.
Being chased by such a force ignited his fighting spirit.
And then he saw it.
A dragon.
Beneath a distant hill lay a massive dragon, lazily sleeping. Beneath its body floated a purple glowing point.
Glintstone Dragon Smarag.
By instinct alone, Gapar knew.
That purple light was what they were searching for.
To obtain it, they would inevitably have to fight the dragon—or at least wake it.
Using a dragon to guard the key clue for entering the academy…
No wonder the corpse had never dared retrieve it.
But Gapar?
He dared.
In fact, he was excited.
What veteran monster hunter could see this and not wake the dragon?
With water cannons and arrows flying past him, Gapar suddenly accelerated.
The dragon opened its eyes at the noise.
Just in time to see a human leaping high into the sky.
The Sword Saint drew the massive staff-club from his back. Azure magic gathered along its length.
He brought it down in a crushing arc.
Gavel of Haima!
BOOM!
The hammer's impact and the dragon's furious roar rang out simultaneously.
Then countless water cannons slammed into the dragon as well.
Staggered by the second heavy blow, Smarag collapsed.
When its vision cleared…
All it saw was a vast army of monsters.
Where were Gapar and the others?
It didn't matter.
The damage from that combined assault rivaled Gavel of Haima itself.
"ROAR!"
With a thunderous beat of its wings, the dragon launched into the sky and dive-bombed the monster horde.
The earth shook. The lake trembled.
In the distance, Gapar's group felt the vibrations as they fled.
Fighting Smarag head-on might have been manageable.
But not with a massive monster mob interfering.
Letting monsters fight monsters?
Optimal solution.
How did they pull it off?
The moment Gapar successfully woke the dragon and grabbed the purple light—the Academy Key—Roger cast Mass Invisibility, Tursey cast Mass Silence, and Hades erased their scent.
They were now completely undetectable.
So invisible that if a carriage ran them over in the middle of the road, the driver wouldn't even be liable.
Perfect teamwork.
They retrieved the key and rode off happily.
After the silence spell faded, Roger said:
"Did we forget something? Why haven't we seen a teleportation gate?"
"There isn't one here," Tursey replied smugly. "There wasn't any path behind the dragon either. Looks like that intel was fake."
"So the way out really is inside the academy."
Behind them, Smarag and the monster army battled fiercely.
And behind the hill where the dragon had been resting…
A teleportation gate leading to the surface shimmered quietly.